We’ve just spent a couple of days in Mysore – a town in the state of Karnataka, which happens to be a very popular tourist destination for Indias on account of it’s palace, the hill top temple and scores of sweet shops.  The guidebook said we’d fall in love with it’s charm.  I want a refund.

Ok, perhaps I’m been harsh – compared to Delhi it’s wonderful – wide open spaces, trees, it’s got a lovely temple and doesn’t smell like a toilet.  But it’s got rickshaws, by the thousands.  Rickshaws driven by the most persistent drivers with highly tuned tourist radars.  They can smell a bead of english tourist sweat from 6 blocks away, at which point they honk their hooters  to rally fellow drivers into an elite hunting pack to descend on said tourists.  I’ve become a very rude man after spending two days in Mysore.

We went to the Maharajahs Palace – a huge building crammed with self indulgent opulence, and tourists.  We wondered around the palace (after bribing and official to let me take my precious camera in) reading information from the guide book.  Here’s how the conversation went:

(we enter a grand room, the wedding room)

James: wow, look at that!

Jeannie: yes, you’re leaning against a solid cast iron pillar that was forged in Glasgow, and the stained glass ceiling was made in Belgium

James: wow.  It’s beautiful.  How old is it?

Jeannie: it was built in 1912.

James: what?

Jeannie: 1912

James: what a con.  It’s not even a hundred years old.  Buckingham palace is of prehistoric construction compare to this place, hell even the statue of liberty is older.  Even my parent’s house is older.  What a con.  Grumble, grumble, grumble.  Etc

I think I was just pissed that I had to pay RS200 to get in.

The following day we paid 15p for the bus ride up to the top of Chamundi Hill to see Mysore’s famous temple.  This was more like it – it was busy, but worth the trip.  A man showed us around, gave us colours kumkum powder to offer to the gods and furnished us with a couple of Bhindis to bring us luck.  Then he wanted his own blessing in the form of hard cash for his kindness.  Cheeky!  We descended down 1000 steps from the temple, passing various idols on the way, including a giant statue of Nandi, carved from a solid granite block.  At the end of the road we stumbled across a small icon of Ganesh, sorry Lord Ganesh, tended by a very kind Sadhu.  We chatted, he shared some sweets with us (which young Ivanov lunged for with her left hand – a big no no in India, as that’s your poo hand) and blessed us before we tottered back into town.

Today we’re leaving Mysore, we’re off to Kerala on a 14 hour bus drive.  I’ve been reassured by the locals that it’s a luxurious bus, however it’s only costing three quid so we shall see.